 |
|
Called and Sent with Power
|
|
6 September 2009 This homily comes with a warning: it is written from the perspective of the gospel according to Mark. That is, Jesus becomes the son of God, the Messiah, as he lives into the call he receives at his baptism. No birth story, no angels and holy nights, no co-creation with God from the beginning of time. Mark’s Jesus responds to John the baptizer’s call to repent and prepare the way of the Lord. Jesus becomes so infused with God’s spirit, that miracles of healing, gifts of teaching and preaching mark his being from the beginning of his ministry. Which brings us to our present story. You have to wonder if the writer of Mark had ever been any farther north of Jerusalem than the Sea of Galilee. After all, to say that Jesus goes to Tyre by way of Sidon is like saying that from here in Germantown, Jesus goes to Alexandria by way of Frederick. More or less heading due north for a destination in the southeast. Not exactly a direct route. But Mark isn’t interested in scoring an “A” on his geography quiz. His point is entirely theological and political: Jesus moves from the Jewish region of Galilee to the Gentile regions of Tyre and Sidon. And, if we pick up on one phrase in the opening verse, Jesus didn’t want anyone to know he was there. It’s a provocative detail. Anonymity is wonderful; it gives us a break from our normal demands and responsibilities. Given Jesus’ intense activity up to this point, his desire for anonymity, for a three-day weekend is perfectly understandable. But not optional. He still attracts attention, and not from “his” people, the Jewish people, but from a Gentile woman, who begs him to heal her little daughter. This comes as no surprise: Jesus has been asked to heal or free or cleanse people throughout Mark’s story.[1] Even when he goes to a deserted place to pray, the people follow him, and he continues to teach and heal.[2] Once again, someone’s urgent need challenges Jesus’ need for a break. But this is a challenge with a difference: it comes from a Gentile woman. At its core, it demands that Jesus reassess his identity and his mission. Jesus’ first response–that his people, the children of Israel–should be fed first, shows how far Jesus has to go. His need for reassessment is underscored by Jesus’ second response: he insults the Syrophoenician woman by calling her a dog. Jesus uses a powerfully offensive, insulting word; he uses it face-to-face with a woman whose only offense is to ask him to help her daughter.[1] At this point, Jesus is the poster child for the adage that nothing is harder to open than a closed mind. But the Syrophoenician woman refuses to tuck her tail between her legs and cower in the corner whimpering. Even as she accedes to Jesus’ derogatory label and absorbs the insult, she re-asserts her fundamental need–her daughter’s well-being–and challenges Jesus again. Then the first healing happens–not with much grace, but it happens: Jesus grudgingly opens his mind and heals the woman’s daughter: the second healing. The third healing, of the man who is deaf and has a speech impediment, mirrors what happens in the first two healings: the deaf ears upon which the Syrophoenician woman’s plea first falls are opened and Jesus’ speech, however terse, is plain. Jesus’ speech moves from offensive to healing: the demon has left the woman’s daughter; the man hears and speaks plainly. It’s a powerful, unsettling story. But to my mind, it works on multiple levels, including the political and the personal. Politically, we are embroiled in an intense debate about the form health care will take in a country that spends more per capita on health care than any other country in the world. Yet we also have the highest infant mortality rate of any developed country, and more than 46 million people within our borders do not have access to basic health coverage. Whether they live among the millions in New York city, on a reservation in New Mexico, or in the mountains of Appalachia, women are pleading that the demon of denied access be removed from their children. Like Jesus, our prejudices are stopping our ears, so the question remains: will we be opened to the pleadings of those who fall outside the community already served? On a personal level, these scriptures remind us that we need to be healed ourselves, just as Jesus is healed. These scriptures remind us that as we are opened to others, we also open ourselves to God’s healing power. May we each be opened. ### The gift of healing, services of healing have a long tradition in the church. Often Christian scriptures lift up faith, forgiveness of sins, touch, and healing as inseparable, but distinct aspects of God’s ongoing work of reconciliation on all levels. Healing in the Christian sense, is the reintegration of body, mind, emotions, and spirit that permits each of us, individually and communally, to live life fully. In the spirit of Jesus, you will be invited to be opened, to come forward for the ministry of healing for yourself or on behalf of others. Deborah or I will ask you to name the person or the need for which you have come forward, and mark you with the oil of anointing as we pray.... ### [1] Swanson, Richard W., Provoking the Gospel of Mark, The Pilgrim Press, © 2005, page 207. Additional note: a dog is a metaphor for an unscrupulous person in rabbinic sayings. |